


Breath Of Life

by BroodyJC



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, Hanahaki Disease, and was missing danvarias, but I did it because I procastinate, it's the AU no one asked me to write, okay but look
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-16 02:58:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19309237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BroodyJC/pseuds/BroodyJC
Summary: (It was a heliotrope.Eternal loveAnd Sam is all that comes to her mind.Eternal love.And she wishes Sam would’ve stayed long enough for Alex to be brave.Eternal love.And Alex spends the next minutes coughing up another fistful of petals.)





	Breath Of Life

**Author's Note:**

> I'll probably edit this later for minor adjustments, it's just I couldn't stay another day without posting this because otherwise I wouldn't start studying for my finals

It happens two weeks after Sam leaves.

And all Alex can think is if Sam is doing better, if Ruby is adapting well to her new school, if things are getting closer to normal as time passes, if Sam spends as much times as she does thinking about her.

If Sam cares.

If Sam will come back.

Sam, Sam, Sam. It always goes back to her.

The deep tug at her lungs comes as a surprise, then, just as she brought the bottle of warm beer to her lips. A growing, incessant pain, rippling through her tissues and settling strongly against her bones. Her throat starts to tickle, and there’s nothing she can do to stop the coughing fit that takes over herself.

It’s nothing like she’s ever felt before, she clutches to her chest in despair, body doubling over on the couch and she falls to the ground on her knees in her poor attempt of getting up. She can’t. And she coughs until there’s no air left, then some more.

Alex feels her eyes burning with tears she prevents from falling and how sore her throat already feels, how weird it is to feel something getting back _up_ , _up_ and _up_ until it’s out. The offending pieces stare back at her as her mouth hangs open.

The scene should be comical, it would be comical by anyone looking from the outside. Not for Alex. Because resting at her carpet, barely a foot away from her, a few light purple petals hastily bundled together, as if they were crumpled together in a fist and shoved down her throat to be found later.

Later had come.

If she shoves the petals at the bottom of her trash can and goes for the stronger drinks, it’s to convince herself the last ten minutes hadn’t happened. If she spends the rest of her night staring at the ceiling, hands clinging tightly to her thighs in order to keep them from shaking, it’s not because she’s nervous.

In the end, she is not. She is terrified.

What a way to start her week.

(When she goes to bed, she makes sure the trash is taken out with the other handful of light purple petals she coughed out.

She doesn’t need the reminder.)

**

If she gets home from the DEO the next day, takes out her laptop to the kitchen counter and doesn’t sleep until three am, she has a reason.

(It was a heliotrope.

_Eternal love_

And Sam is all that comes to her mind.

 _Ete_ _rn_ _al lov_ e.

And she wishes Sam would’ve stayed long enough for Alex to be brave.

 _Eternal lo_ ve.

And Alex spends the next minutes coughing up another fistful of petals.)

**

Her research is extensive. And it’s such a cliche, that she would’ve fallen in love with the one who would never love her back, and the unrequited love would end up killing her. She laughs when she thinks about it. Alex Danvers, DEO’s most trusted agent, the one who’s being looked at to become a director once J’onn steps out, survivor of the Daxamite’s invasion, hero of the battle against Reign, savior of Supergirl most often than not, defeated by… petals.

Killed because she was in love with the wrong person.

Dead by suffocation because of vines growing inside her lungs.

How lucky of her.

It has a name, because of course it fucking has. Hanahaki disease, born from unrequited love, filling up her throat with flowers until she started coughing them up. Hanahaki disease, cured by the feeling of love being returned in the same way, romantic love. Hanahaki disease, three months until it’s deadly, maybe longer with total isolation, until she suffocates in flowers, if she chooses not to forget her.

Alex won’t, it was never an option. She will not forget Sam, she will not settle for looking at the woman who holds her heart and not being able to feel what she feels. She will never be so resigned to the point where she will go to such extent. To look at Sam, to think of Sam, and not feel her heart racing, the high her body gets just by hearing her voice. She will never do that to the woman she loves.

So, if she only has three months, she’s gonna make them worth.

**

It’s hard to “make them worth” when she spends most of her time locked away down the labs at DEO, trying to ignore Kara’s worried glances every time she so much scratches at her throat to keep the petals down.

No one has seen it. Not yet. If she has any say on it, no one will see, not until it’s finally too late. She’s not ready to explain how she can’t let go of those lazy moments they shared in the lab, she’s not ready to forget the grateful, warm smile she was always on the receiving end, she’s not ready to be striped away from every memory that made her fall in love with someone else at a time she didn’t thought she would be able to move on.

How could she tell anyone, how could she tell her _sister_ , she valued memories over her own life?

She sighs, adjusts the way she’s sitting hunched over the microscope and takes a look out the glass windows. There’s barely movement out, the agents having gone home hours ago, to enjoy a nice, slow Friday out, Supergirl out there in her usual rounds, and Alex was alone.

How she wishes Sam was here, how she wishes Sam would call, hell, how she wishes Sam would text her back.

The tug in her chest grows heavier, the roots steadily growing and finding foundation, nutrition to grow as they kept shutting her systems down. She knows what’s coming, she knows she can’t stop it.

Falling forward, she braces her head in her arms, and coughs, until there’s no strength left in her core, her lungs burning in need to let go of _more_. There’s too much already, and she doesn’t have an idea how she’ll survive eleven more weeks of that.

She breathes heavily through her mouth, a sharp intake of air to be let out as a shaky sob, it’s the only moment she realizes she’s been crying. So she presses the heels of her hands to her eyes, expects to will back the tears from falling down and it only makes it worse.

In the table, five petals stare defiantly at her.

**

J’onn steps out and she’s made the new director.

All her energy had already been used to spit petals, so, when Kara announces that they should celebrate, just the two of them, she lets herself be dragged away, lets Kara’s excitement pull out small smiles from the corner of her lips, adverts her eyes every other time she has to get up and lock herself in the bathroom with the faucet turned on.

Kara is worried, that much is clear, and she knows if things were the other way around, she would be as well. But she can’t tell Kara, doesn’t _want_ to tell Kara, because she’s not ready for the pity and confusion. She’s not ready to say goodbye.

There’s a knock on the door, and she hurries to crash the petals, flush them down, not leaving a sign of what’s happening, not daring to let Kara think something is wrong.

“Is everything okay?” Kara’s voice is low, hesitant, afraid to know the truth that Alex has been keeping secrets from her, has been doing something they had promised they never would. That something is very, very wrong and she can only watch from the outside.

 _I’m dying_ , she wants to say and fall into her sister’s arms, let herself be cradled and taken care of for once in her life, to share the burden thrown into her shoulders with someone stronger than herself.

 _There are flowers growing in my lungs_ _and I’ll stop breathing if she doesn’t love me back_ , but it feels too much like throwing the blame at others, and Sam should never feel guilty of something that happened. It’s not Sam’s fault, Alex was just born when luck ceased to exist.

“I’m fine.” Alex manages to choke out as tears prick at the corners of her eyes, realization sinking in.

 _I have ten weeks left, please don’t be mad at me for leaving you_ , and her throat is scratching again.

 _Eternal love_ , yeah, yeah, she gets it.

**

It gets worse as time passes.

Logically, Alex always knew it was going to happen, it was the rational progression of things: she gets the first symptoms, she learns to live with them, it gets worse, she learns to deal with worse. It’s logical. It’s simple. It’s easy.

Until it’s not. Because, as much as Alex told herself she was ready for it, nothing stops her from standing in the middle of her lab, way past one in the morning, staring at an intricate, though small, vine, possessing exactly three petals. And it shouldn’t be any different from all the times it had happened before, and there were many times before that, yet, it is.

Delicate thorns are starting to show, the pain on her throat dulling at the sight, because this time it had been different. This time, it had hurt more. And it makes sense, because she only has nine weeks.

The reality of her development, of her _condition_ , seems to settle in, and she can’t help it. She locks the door of her lab, lets her body fall to the floor in a dampening thud, and stares blankly ahead.

She’s leaving Kara on her own, when she promised she would always be there no matter what; she’s leaving Winn, when he had finally become her annoying little brother she loved above anything else in the world; she’s leaving Eliza, when they’ve reached the point in their relationship where Alex is comfortable in being herself, she’s accepted for who she was; she’s leaving J’onn, when he struggles with the loss of his family everyday, and she’s making him lose another daughter.

She is leaving, and she won’t change her mind. All of that because she can’t phantom the idea of thinking of Sam, of looking at her name, of remembering her smile and not feel the calmness washing through her veins, the warmth spreading through her cells, the love blooming on her heart.

It’s a sad realization that she’s ready to hurt so many people because she wants to keep hurting. Because she doesn’t want to forget what feels like to love Sam. Because she is afraid that, if she forgets what this feels like, she’ll never be able to feel it again.

**

Alex is not as subtle as she thinks she is. And it only takes Lena twenty minutes to realize exactly what’s wrong. In all honesty, Alex should’ve expected, because it doesn’t take a genius to realize she’s not in her best shape, but there’s one sitting right in front of her ever since she arrived at Kara’s apartment, and it’s an unspoken agreement that Lena knows.

Part of her is relieved, to share the burden of the secret that’s been keeping her from closing her eyes at night with someone else, feeling flowers slowly growing inside of her. The other part, the bigger part, is absolutely terrified, because Lena won’t understand, because Lena will try to convince her otherwise, because Lena will have to share this with Kara.

Being terrified appears to be a feeling she’s been in touch a lot lately. Terrified of a fate she has a way of changing, but not enough willpower to do so.

Lena doesn’t say anything, though. She sits patiently sipping at the red they’d been sharing for the night, eyes lingering a little longer than usual at Alex’s figure every time she excuses herself for longer than five minutes, every time she clears her throat a little more forcefully, every time she swallows her wine with the smoothness of someone who never drank before.

And, at the end of the night, Lena excuses herself the moment Alex gets up to go home. If Kara hugs her a little tighter, a little longer, none of them mention it, and Alex cannot shake the feeling that they know something is wrong. They just don’t know how wrong it is.

The wait for the elevator is awkward, filled with a lingering silence that neither Lena nor Alex knows how to break, the ride is worse. Alex sees how Lena’s shoulders square, head held high and gaze set forward, a look Alex know all too well, to never show weakness, to show nothing fazes you. She knows things are about to change, because it will only take one question for her to break, to spill the words she’s been dying to say ever since it started.

And Lena, god, Lena was there to listen. Willingly. Showing the silent support she never thought someone other than Kara would be able to provide.

She is leaving Lena, the woman who loves her sister above anything else, who would risk her life to save those that, maybe, aren’t all that worth saving, who would laugh in the face of danger, than drown her sorrows in way too expensive wine. A woman after her own heart.

“How long?” Alex doesn’t look at her, choosing, instead, to let her gaze fix at her shoes, the black leather shinning with the elevator dim lights. “Until you...”

“Ten weeks, if I’m lucky. Doctor expects six or seven.”

“Are you going to tell them?” Alex manages a smile, it’s small, a little too fake, and they already know the answer. “Are you going to tell her?”

It’s where all the roads lead at the end. Telling her. Telling her and facing the look of pure pity on brown eyes, mouth hanging down in shock, guilt washing over her features as rejection spills out of her lips. Telling her, and hearing the words she has always prepared herself to listen to, but never got quite ready for it. Telling her and, and–

“I don’t want her to live with the guilty of knowing that I died because she couldn’t love me the way I needed.” The elevator finally stops at the lobby, Alex shoots her arm up to hold the doors open to let Lena out first, a self depreciating smile at her lips when she looks at warm, green eyes full of comprehension. “I can’t burden her any further.”

Lena nods like she understands, and maybe she does, because Lena is the woman who carries the weight of her family name on her shoulders and doesn’t let anyone help her. Because, at the end, Lena would be the one person who would understand, who wouldn’t question her, who would respect her decision even though she doesn’t agree with it.

Lena gets it and the burden is shared, either she likes it or not. She wishes she would’ve gone to Lena sooner.

**

Alex starts having trouble breathing during her missions at the DEO. She feels like she runs with someone pulling her back and, when she stops, there’s a fifty pound weight set on top of her chest.

She has trouble breathing, and she has to force the air down her lungs in ugly intakes of breath, a chocked, wheezy sound that leaves all of the younger, and some of the older, agents looking worriedly at her.

If she excuses herself to a dark, secured alley, and empties her stomach with the violence of her coughing, she hopes no one sees it. She thanks whatever deity is out there that Kara wasn’t with them in this mission. She breaks down, and cries for the second time since Sam left, with her back against a brick wall, with garbage discarded along her feet, and a smell she thinks she’ll never forget.

She cries, and every time she feels like it’s stopping, another memory of Sam comes rushing back.

_What a nightmare of a kid you raised._

_We’re gonna find out together, okay?_

_I think there’s another person out there for you._

_When you wake up, please be Sam._

_Please be Sam._

_Please be Sam._

_Sam._

She calls her mom instead. The words stumble out of her mouth before she can even process what’s happening, and, now that she started it, she can’t stop it. It feels good, letting all the words out, because, even if Lena knew, they never discussed it, Alex never said the words out loud. Not until now, at least.

“I’m dying, mom.” It hurts more than she thought it would, because it’s the cruel reality that her pain has a deadline, but the people she’ll leave behind will hurt forever. Because death hurt for those who live.

“I’m booking a flight for as soon as I can.”

“No, no, mom, please, don’t.” Alex rubs her eyes with the back of her hand, tries to compose herself, coughs two times and forces herself to believe they were purely to steady her voice. “I haven’t told Kara.”

“Alex, you have to.”

“I know, it’s just” and for a moment, all of her reasons seem too silly, too weak, not enough. “I’m scared. Of leaving her.”

“Honey, you”

“I have to go, mom, I’ll call you later, okay? I love you.”

Alex doesn’t give her a chance to answer. She hangs up, tosses her phone to the side not bothering with the force it lands with the screen against the concrete, and ignores the calls she gets, and the texts that follows. She doesn’t know her next step, for what feels like the first time in her life, she doesn’t have a plan. She hates the feeling.

Forcing herself to stand, she puts one foot in front of the other, picks up her phone and turns it off before pocketing it, returning to her position as if nothing has happened and ignores how everyone stares at the redness of her eyes. She just really wants a drink.

**

She misses having company to get drunk. So it’s no surprise she gets home that day, takes the most expensive bottle of whiskey she has ever bought from the back of the cabinet, and doesn’t think twice before leaving.

It’s a Friday night and the streets are busy, making her have to squirm her way through crowds to get to her destination. Alex hugs her jacket tighter against her body, the light breeze of middle fall making every breath painful, but she got used to it, the pain is familiar, is a reminder of the inevitable.

No one tries to stop her once she enters the building, there’s no one there to stop her if she’s being honest. The security guard barely even spares a glance in her direction before going back to the football game playing at the small TV on top of his desk. Jess is not there when the doors slide open, never for a second she thought Jess would be there.

It’s a Friday night, and it’s way past midnight, and the only person who would still be there would be Lena, and no one could convince her otherwise.

Alex is polite enough to knock on the door when she gets there, sees the bags under Lena’s eyes from where she stands leaning against the door frame, raises the bottle she held against her hip for dear life as she walked. Lena’s shoulders slump down, the tension leaving her for a split second, giving space for the smallest hints of a smile to take over her lips.

Maybe they both need a break, maybe Alex’s been craving this for longer than she thought, maybe Lena has to be looked after with a little more attention before she works herself to exhaustion.

They don’t make it to the couch. Lena’s blazer is spread on the floor as they sit on top of it with their backs against her white desk, hips pressed together as they lean against each other for support, glasses are never retrieved from cabinets, and they share long sips directly from the bottle.

The silence that stretches is good, it’s calming in a way it’s never been before, and Alex could never phantom the possibility of getting this far, this comfortable with the person she once thought she would never trust. The reality she lives in is: she would trust Lena with her life, hell, she would trust Lena with her sister’s life.

“I’ve been” Lena stops, takes a long sip of the whiskey in one go, barely seems fazed by the alcohol and Alex is even more impressed by this woman “I’ve been doing some research.”

“Lena-”

“Alex.” She lets her head drop in defeat, a sigh leaving her lips because there’s no way she’s winning this argument. “There’s this new procedure, it’s still experimental, that remove the bigger vines, it gives us some more time to think about what to do next.”

_It gives us more time to change your min_ _d, it gives us more time to make you realize dying for love is madness._

“And I already called in a favor, they are willing to take you to testing to see if you’re to be considered for the procedure, I-” Alex’s hand fall to her covered thigh, leaves a gentle squeeze there before meeting her eyes for the second time that night.

Lena is crying, has been crying for who knows how long, dark, prominent stains against her cheeks, her mascara tracing the path the tears made before.

“I don’t want it, I already made my choice.”

Simple like that.

“You can’t die.” Her voice breaks at the last word and it shatters Alex’s heart with it. “Wh- What about Kara, and Eliza, and, and… What about Supergirl?”

It’s the confirmation of what Alex always suspected, the recognition that Lena knew and always went out of her way to help because it was _Kara_ and Kara is the most important thing. There no one else she would rather leave Kara with.

“She has you, and you have them. You’re gonna be alright.” The coughing fit that follows is the less violent in weeks, it doesn’t mean that she doesn’t spit out a perfectly developed flower, almost an inch long, the biggest proof that her time is running out. Lena stares at it, with the awe of a scientist and the worry of someone losing a friend. “It’s a heliotrope, they mean eternal love, kind of cliche if you ask me. They don’t usually grow much more than this, more flowers just start coming in the vines, so I’m guessing I don’t have as long as I thought, but there’s no blood yet, so who knows.”

“You’re really okay with that.” Alex smiles, gives a single nod to Lena before placing the delicate, purple flower on top of her thigh, where they could both stare at it. _I’m already living in borrowed time._ “You really don’t want to get it removed.”

_Not if it means I’ll forget her._

“Would you do it? Even if it meant forgetting every single moment you had with Kara?”

“No.”

The answer comes fast, in an unwavering voice of someone with enough confidence to show the love she feels, even with all the chance of getting hurt.

“Then you know why I can’t do it.”

**

Her ringtone blasts loudly with the clock rapidly approaching two in the morning. She was the furthest thing from sleeping, laying in the middle of her bed, arms behind her head as she stared at the white ceiling of her apartment. The open window being enough to provide just the right temperature that she pulled out an old, large shirt and gray sweatpants, before settling into bed.

She has been sleeping less this past months, and the last three days were the worst. She would turn to the side, to realize the position hurt her lungs, and would get up as fast as she could to try to reach the bathroom, to come back to bed, close her eyes and start the cycle all over again.

It’s a chain reaction; she needs silence to sleep, silence makes her think of Sam, thinking of Sam makes her throw up. The only reasonable course of action, of course, was to sleep as little as she could, it’s not like it would matter in the long run anyways. She only had four more weeks before her lungs would shut down, machines keeping her alive for who knows how long after that.

But, what makes her speed out of bed, vision blurring slightly for the lack of oxygen, is because the call came to her personal number. At two in the morning, it was never good news. Ruby’s name on her shattered screen only proves her right, and she already has her car keys in hand and she’s looking for her shoes when she answers.

“Did something happen? Is Sam okay? Are _you_ okay?”

_Is Reign back?_

“Alex, _things are fine._ ” She was seriously debating whether or not she could leave the house barefooted when Ruby finally said something, the words being enough o calm her down for now. Leaning her forehead against her front door, she lets out a shaky, uneven breath. “ _I just missed you_.”

“You could’ve called earlier, like, literally, any other time.”

“ _Sorry_.” She doesn’t sound like it at all.

“It’s okay, kid. I’m just getting old, my heart can’t take many of those anymore.” She drops her keys back on top of the counter, before sitting at the couch. “How have you been?”

It’s all it takes to make Ruby launch into every single detail she missed on the past two and a half months. She’s the best midfielder in her high school, has been trying to convince her mom to let her start traveling for the away games, she’s been learning how to cook with Sam taking one evening off a week to teach her, she’ll joint the track team next semester and go to soccer camp in the summer.

Ruby is being a teenager, a normal loved one, and Ale’s heart warms at the thought. It doesn’t mean that she doesn’t feel her throat closing, the air getting thicker and harder to reach her lungs, her stomach begging for her to _just let go_.

There’s a long pause on the call, long enough that Alex takes the phone away from her ear to make sure it wasn’t disconnected, before placing it back. She clears her throat, waits for Ruby to say whatever she needs saying. She doesn’t, and with an awkward laugh, Alex says “I should probably let you go to bed. You have school tomorrow.”

“ _Alex._ ” She hates that tone, because she knows it all too well. Its the same one she used to use, the tone of a kid who never knew how to ask for what she wanted. Alex hates it, because she knows she’ll not be able to say no. Because it’s Ruby. _And Sam._ “ _Can you come visit?_ ”

 _Yes, yes I can._ She uses her free hand to wrap her fingers around the hem of her shirt, tugging at it to keep her from blurting out what she wants. _I want to see you, and your mom, one last time._ She cannot say that, because she knows it’s a one way ticket to cutting her time in half, when she still has so much to do here. _I want to tell you I love you, just so you know you are loved._

“I should talk to Sam first, if she’s okay with it, I don’t see why I can’t go.”

_I’m dying anyway, a week changes nothing._

“ _My mom will say no. She doesn’t know how to ask for help._ ”

“Does she need help?”

“ _Not like that. She’s just_ ” Ruby doesn’t say anything else, as if she’s looking for the right words to say it, to make Alex understand. “ _she hasn’t been sleeping. She doesn’t think I notice, but she’s overworking, even at home, and the only time I caught her sleeping was sitting at the dining table, on top of work. She cries at night, when she thinks I’m asleep._ ”

“Ruby...”

“ _Alex, please, mom barely talks about National City and, when she does, it’s about you._ ”

 _It’s about you_. And she wishes she could say she felt roots metaphorically spreading through her chest, but they were quite literal.

 _It’s about you._ And she feels the moment everything shifts in a way she always expected but was never ready for it.

 _It’s about you._ And the pain comes differently this time, ripping her sternum open, not asking for passage through her throat as it shoots up without her permission.

“I’ll see what I can do.” She hangs up, because Ruby shouldn’t have to listen to her knees hitting the ground, her body giving out the moment after, fingers coming up to grasp at the base of her neck, wishing she could just scratch out whatever was there.

It’s a perfectly formed flower that comes out, but it’s hard to see with all the blood covering it. If she didn’t know any better, she would’ve guessed they were red from the beginning.

**

“I thought it was Maggie, for a while at least.” They had found themselves at the same spot where this all started weeks ago. Lena had her bag hanging from the crook of her elbow, eyes set forward, patiently waiting for the elevator doors to open. And Alex? Well, Alex had a what used to be white tissue cleaning the blood from her mouth, a bottle of water to try and get rid of the taste lingering on her tongue. “But it’s Sam, isn’t it?”

Feels good to be seen.

She crumples the tissue in her fist, shoves it deep inside the pocket of her jacket.

“I wish things could’ve gone differently.”

“Yeah.” The elevator dings, the doors slide open and, again, Alex holds it open for Lena to step in first. “Me too.”

**

She leaves for Metropolis on a Saturday morning, her ticket back to National City already bought for the next afternoon. She still hasn’t told Kara and her mom calls her every night, the promise of going to National City no matter what leaving her lips at every goodbye. Alex knows there’s no way of preventing it, she has roughly three weeks, and she has a lot of people to tell.

None of that is important when the plane lands, and she clutches her backpack as close to her body as possible. She’s thirty minutes away from Sam, and, maybe, three months too late for her own health, but none of that matters either.

What matters is, when Sam opens the door in middle laugh, she freezes, with light brown eyes boring into her own. That she freezes for long enough that Ruby squeals and runs past her mother to hug Alex as strongly as she can. Ruby is taller, at least she thinks so, and stronger too, but that can be just a side effect from the lack of sleep, and you know, the ticking time bomb inside her chest.

Speaking of which, it tightens around her organs, seeing Sam makes it hurt more than it normally does only by thinking of her. Because Sam is more beautiful than she could ever remember, because Sam looks at her with something akin to affection that makes Alex _hope_ , because Alex is sure, now that she’s close again, that she would’ve fallen in love all over again, even if she had forgotten Sam in the first place.

Eternal love seems like the right description.

“The pancakes are burning.” Are Sam’s first words, and it only takes a look at each of them for Ruby to take the spatula from her mother’s hand and go back inside muttering under her breath.

Sam doesn’t say another word, she surges forward instead, wrapping her arms around Alex’s neck, face tucking at her shoulder, and Alex feels like she can breathe for the first time since Sam left. She feels the oxygen entering her body, going through her cells, and she knows, that this will be the last time she’s able to breathe like this.

She understands what Ruby was talking about, it happens when she snakes her arms around her waist to bring her closer, to press their bodies completely, and maybe Alex didn’t have the chance of doing that for so long, but she notices the difference. Sam’s thinner, her arms don’t hold all that strength they used to even before everything, like her body is giving up over something she had no power to control.

They make quite a pair, with Alex looking like she hasn’t known the word sleep for the past month, dark circles under her eyes and a pocket full of bloodied tissues, and Sam looking like she would collapse at any given step.

Her cheekbone are more prominent, Alex notices as soon as she takes a step back, and her collarbones peek from under her shirt, being so big that it barely hugs her figure.

“What, I mean, how?”

“Ruby called. Can we talk about that later? I just really missed you.” It’s the easiest admission of her life, the way her eyes shine makes her heart race and palms sweat, the lingering touch on her neck seizing with a gentle parting squeeze.

“Come in, we’re having late breakfast.”

“So, like, brunch?”

Sam’s laugh is a sound she never thought she would hear again, and, now that she has, she doesn’t want to think about the day she won’t get to hear it again. She doesn’t want to think about how that day is tomorrow. How this is, after all, the beginning of a series of goodbyes.

“Don’t you want the pancakes?”

“Oh, I never turn down free food. Learned it from Kara.”

The way Sam smiles makes her think that _maybe_ , but she won’t. Not when it has the potential of destroying the last shred of hope on the back of her mind.

She only excuses herself once in the course of the afternoon, it happens when Sam’s smile gets so big the corner of her eyes crinkle in the softest of ways, and it’s directed at no one but Alex. She feels like her heart could burst out of her chest.

Blood comes out of her lungs instead.

**

“You haven’t eaten all day.” Is all Alex says when Sam finally leaves the bathroom that night, hair pulled up in a messy bun, barefoot, and a large shirt stopping barely at her mid thighs, but Alex is sure that any shirt Sam wears would be too large for her. She should’ve come sooner.

And she stands at the kitchen counter, a plate of chicken braised in olive oil with vegetables in front of her, the chair pulled back with her hand at its back, a silent invitation for Sam to sit down. Or, maybe, less of an invitation and more like a command.

Alex hadn’t missed the way Sam’s thumb pressed against her open palm whenever she started to feel anxious, or how she barely even touched her food before she cleaned up the table, or the way her smile was genuine for only a fraction of time before the light dimmed in her eyes. Alex noticed Sam, all of her, and she cared, oh, how she cared.

That’s why, even when all the lights are out in the apartment and Ruby is sound asleep, a pillow and a blanket waiting for her on the couch, after a long discussion she only won because Sam got tired of fighting, she still sees the way Sam’s throat bob, the hard swallow she takes, much like Ruby does when she’s caught doing something she shouldn’t.

“I’m not hungry.” She hums, nonchalantly, but doesn’t take her eyes off of Sam, she couldn’t even if she wanted to.

“I know. But you have to eat.” Her mouth start opening to argue, but Alex is faster. “Just try, please.”

Sam sits down, takes the fork in her hand, and Alex pulls the other stool next to her. She doesn’t even think before placing her hand on Sam’s thigh, thumb making small circles against the smooth skin, and, god, if this doesn’t feel like everything that’s been wrong in her life finally set its course in the right direction.

Of course, her lungs choose this moment to constrict, start fighting for air, but she doesn’t throw up, barely takes in a ragged breath as to not scare Sam.

“I haven’t been able to eat or sleep like I used to. It’s like my body hasn’t understood that I’m me again, that I need this.”

“We’ll get to that later, okay? You’re doing amazing.”

Alex asks about Ruby, only if so to take Sam’s mind out of her task, and it’s easy, then, to listen to Sam talk with love on every word and remember why she fell in love in the first place.

Alex hangs onto the words, how her lips curve to form them, the sound of her voice, as if it would be the very last she hears, and, every time Sam rests the cutlery and lets that hand rest on top of Alex’s own, her heart flutters in her chest in a way she’s not sure whether is good or bad. If it’s gonna give her another month or kill her faster.

Then, Sam gives her this look, more than half of her plate already gone, and Alex acts on instinct. She leans forward, press her lips to her temple the same moment she squeezes her thigh just a little harder. She hears the sigh, her shoulders slumping with the weight she’s been carrying.

“You did great, love.” It slips out with such ease, she has trouble believing it has never happened before and, if Sam is bothered, she doesn’t show. “Get ready for bed, I’ll keep you company until you fall asleep.”

Sam doesn’t try to argue this time, her eyes almost dropping closed, and Alex hurries to cover the plate with PVC plastic before putting it in the fridge, dishes to be dealt with later.

Sam’s waiting for her when she gets there, standing at the side of her bed, fiddling with her fingers as if she doesn’t know how to proceed. Alex doesn’t either, so she opens the blinds to let the bright glow of the city bathe the room, turns off the bedside lamps, to, lastly, sit down at the bed, her back against the headboard.

“Don’t make this more awkward than it has to be.”

With a small laugh, she follows Alex, but lays down completely and turns around to face her in the dark. If anyone would look beautiful with a yellow lamppost light shinning against her eyes, making the bags under them seem way deeper than they actually are, that person would be Sam.

 _Just her luck_.

“I wish you would’ve called me sooner.”

There’s a smile, she is sure of it, but it’s gone so fast she starts to doubt if she really saw it to begin with.

“I didn’t want to bother you, you have a lot on your plate.”

“Sam,” she calls, fingers aching to trace the sharp edge of her jawline, accentuated by the glow against the white pillow, “you, Samantha Arias, are the furthest thing from a burden to me. You are my friend and I-I care so much about you.”

 _I love you_. But she doesn’t say it, instead, she gets closer, lets Sam’s fingers find the hem of her shirt, lets them wrap around it for dear life.

 _I love you_. But she doesn’t say it, instead, she lets her eyes trace every line of her face, to try and commit it all to memory, every freckle, every expression line, every fading scar from something that should never have happened.

 _I love you_. But she doesn’t say it, instead, letting her head fall to the wood supporting her weight, and closes her eyes.

_I love you. And I’m sorry._

“Promise me you’ll call me, every night. And when you can’t eat as well, so I can distract you.”

Sam presses closer, the side of her face resting against her thigh, the ghost of a kiss left on top of the shorts covering her skin. “I promise.”

She doesn’t leave her side that night.

**

They spend a nice day out, and they share a doughnut as they wait for Ruby to decide what she wants for breakfast at the small bakery at the corner of their street. The domesticity of it alone would be enough to make her forget how to breath, but Sam kept making things harder.

It was on the way she would throw her arm around Ruby’s shoulder and turn her head back to look at Alex, the kindest of smiles on her lips, and Alex would find out that she didn’t need to breathe all along. It was on how Sam would steal her sup of coffee, a carefree laugh on her lips and not a trace of tiredness on her movements.

It was on the way Alex’s tongue would grow heavier, the words forming deep inside, to be shoved down again, flowers coming in their place.

 _It’s just a cold._ She hurried to say when the coughing fit got too heavy and she felt like her lungs would give out before she even had the chance to tell her sister, black spots covering her vision and Sam’s hands on her side to keep her balanced. _And I’m too much of a coward._

She tries to convince herself that the way her chest tightens and the air refuse to reach her lungs is only in her head the moment she turns around to leave Sam.

**

She gets drunk in cheap wine she bought at a Seven-Eleven in Lena’s office two days after she comes back to National City. It’s ugly, to say at least. She ends up curled on the two seat couch, head resting against Lena’s lap as she cries, because it just hurts so fucking much.

Lena lets her, Lena lets her and she only runs her hand through her short auburn hair, she doesn’t lie and tell her things are going to be okay when they’re not.

Lena lets her, and she presses her face a little further against her stomach hoping no one would hear her sobs, not that there were other people around.

Lena lets her, and she feels so vulnerable at the moment, so loved, that she has a hard time finding her words after.

“Promise me you’ll take care of them.”

“I will, I promise.”

 _Thank you,_ but the words don’t leave her mouth, instead, she her whole body shakes and she stains Lena’s white blouse with blood.

**

Kara blinks slowly with half a sticky bun inside her mouth and sugar around her lips, maybe blurting out in the middle of brunch at the counter top of her apartment wasn’t the best option to begin with.

Maybe it was the words. Maybe it was the defeat in her voice, the resignation to wait for it to end. Maybe it was on the pleading look Kara sent her way, begging for it not to be the truth.

“You’re what?”

 _Dying._ She casts her eyes down, chooses not to answer the question burning in her sister’s tongue, chooses to not look at those blue eyes, chooses to show her instead.

It’s easy to find a tissue with a beautiful, red stained vine with three purple flowers, all she had to do was reach inside her back pocket. That one came in the morning, right after Sam texted her that she would be busy for the day, and probably wouldn’t be able to call until late night. A rejection that was not quite one, but felt the same to her body nevertheless.

“Turns out Hanahaki disease can actually kill you. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before.”

“What are your options?” Kara’s voice sounded just like Supergirl’s, and she only needed one look to realize her posture matched the tone. She hated this, she hated how Kara would handle, because she wasn’t ready to let go.

“There aren’t any. Look, Kara, I chose not to forget, okay? I made my choice and my peace with it a long time ago.”

“What do you mean you don’t have options? How” Kara’s voice broke, it sounded so small, much like the one from the girl who came to live with them over a decade ago, like she was losing everything again. Maybe she was, and maybe Alex was selfish, but it was her decision. “how long do you have?”

The words got caught on her mouth, she couldn’t say them, she couldn’t admit to her sister that, in less than a week, she would be gone. That she would break the one promise she never thought she would. That she would leave her alone, when all Kara needed was her.

“I’m calling Maggie, she loves you, we can”

“That’s the thing, Kara, it’s not Maggie.”

There’s a knock on her door, and she takes the opportunity of not having to face Kara’s confusion even if it means just letting whoever it was in. She didn’t expect Sam. A healthier Sam, with color on her cheeks and looking like she’s been spending more than five hours in her bed at nights.

Sam, with a small, blue cardboard box clutched to her chest, handbag resting against her hip, and a shy smile barely visible behind the locks of hair falling in front of her face.

Sam, and her lungs constricted in a way they never have before.

“I thought you were busy today.”

“I was.” Sam shrugs a half shrug, and Alex suddenly feels completely exposed at the way Sam keeps looking at her. “I had a flight at seven am to come scream at my idiot friend.” _Friend._ Of course, she wants to throw up. “I just didn’t know you’d have company.”

She had forgotten about Kara, Kara, who looked at her with the most fake expression of power, the telling not even in the crinkle this time, rather in the slight tremble of her lower lip as her eyes never left Alex.

“Kara was just leaving.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“Yes, you were.” Alex hugs her with enough force to hurt, and maybe, this time, Kara feels it, because she hugs back just as strongly. Alex doesn’t mention how it makes her unable to breathe for real, how important every gasp of air is at the moment, how little oxygen her body is running with so she can’t spare a single molecule. “We have time. We’ll talk later.”

The door is clicked shut behind Sam and her eyes don’t even faze at the sound, they never leave Alex’s, a question burning in them that Alex has a hard time not answering.

But they don’t say anything, not until Sam leaves her handbag on top of the counter, takes two steps closer to Alex so that she doesn’t have another choice other than to look at her in the eye. She wishes she had another, because the little air on her lungs is knocked out, the roots taking its place the moment they’re gone.

“You know.” It’s a statement, not a question, so Sam doesn’t respond. “Lena told you?”

“She called me last night, in the middle of a breakdown and told me you were dying, and being stubborn and an idiot. I already knew two of the three things.”

“It’s”

“Hanahaki disease, I know.” Her voice is so low Alex has to force herself to listen as she keeps her feet grounded into place, not allowing herself to get any closer. She had so much willpower for so long, she doubts she would have any left at this point. “An infection because of unrequited love, where vines grow in your lungs until you suffocate if the love is not returned, or if you choose not to forget about that love.”

Alex lets out a small, forced laugh, runs her fingers through her hair in an attempt of getting her ground once more.

“You did your research.”

“And you should’ve told me.”

“I didn’t want to bother you.” Sam smiles, closes the little distance there was between them, a small huff coming from her parted lips.

“You, Alex Danvers, are the furthest thing from a burden to me.” Sam’s going to be the death of her. Figuratively, and quite literally. “You are my friend, and you are loved.”

Alex can’t keep her eyes on hers anymore, they are too open, too honest, and Alex has to find a way of stopping the hope building in her chest, to keep the vines growing instead of living in an illusion that Sam loved her back.

She stops looking at her in the eye, the alternative is not that better. She ends with her eyes fixed on Sam’s smile, her lips, the curve of her mouth ever so inviting. _Please, let this be real_.

“Look, Sam, you don’t have to-”

“Will you ever take your head out of your ass?” And Sam kisses her.

Sam kisses her and her lungs never felt so open. Sam kisses her and there’s enough space inside her body to fit all the air of the room, if it hadn’t been knocked out of her as soon as their lips touched. Sam kisses her, and there’s still a lingering taste of the coffee she had this morning to wash out the blood and then there’s only Sam.

She kisses with her whole body, even if it’s barely a press of lips, a hand resting against her hip to tug her closer. They burn, every place their bodies touch, it burns. Alex’s brain is still trying to catch up with just happened when Sam leans back, glazed eyes and an honest smile.

“I’m in love with you.” Alex cannot think of something else to say at the moment, and it pulls a relieved laugh from Sam.

“I kinda got that.”

“Can you-”

“Alex, you gave me a lollipop once and I fell in love with your smile.”

“Good, that’s good.”

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Sam raises the box still in her hand so that Alex’s attention is on it, smiles from ear to ear. “I brought you flowers, they are my favorite.”

Sam opens it, the tiny arrangement of purple flowers stares at her in pure disdain, the same flowers she’s been spiting out for almost three whole months. Alex groans, drops her head to Sam’s shoulder and hears the beautiful laugh that made her heart clench in her chest in the best ache possible.

“I don’t want to see a heliotrope for the rest of my life.”

“We can work on that later.” Their lips connect once more and Alex couldn’t agree more.

With all due respect, eternal love can go fuck itself.

**Author's Note:**

> Anyway, gonna go and disappear for another month so my semester is over and then I'll come back (hopefully) to finish the SuperCorp fic I own you all
> 
> You can always scream at me on tumblr (@BroodyJC)


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